


Protège Moi

by burninglikeabridge



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 13:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8210645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burninglikeabridge/pseuds/burninglikeabridge
Summary: James T. Kirk is not obsessed with his first officer, Spock, in any capacity. Because that would be not only unprofessional, but also bad on a personal level. So if all the people he's been sleeping with lately happen to look like a certain someone with pointed ears, he tells himself it's just a coincidence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Placebo's song.please forgive my formatting!! i work mostly on my phone, and mobile's not great.

Jim Kirk never thought he'd be one of those people.  
Those pathetically strung up, head over heels kind of people.  
The ones who spend all their time mooning over somebody.  
Hell, Jim doesn't even think soulmates are real. He's not even sure if he thinks love is real.  
But he must believe in something, because just last week he found himself slapping his own mouth shut, a stranger's hands at his hips, after he'd just moaned his first officer's name.  
Not only was it mortifying for Jim, but it was probably twice as bad for the poor guy he'd chatted into bed.  
The mood was tense after that, and Jim laid there still afterwards for the polite five minutes before he bailed, grateful that the guy didn't ask.  
Earlier in the night, Jim had him flustered by telling him how he'd never seen anyone so perfect, and lots of other bullshit lines that he recycled from time to time.  
In reality, the only thing Jim was sure of was that he was the perfect height and build, and it was easy to imagine that his hands were actually skimming blue clad shoulders , fingers tracing pointed ears instead.  
Jim knows how to charm people, and if it's not always through honesty, then so be it.  
And if the people he's sleeping with all happen to be guys with dark hair and eyes, well, who's keeping score anyways?  
Besides, ever since he noticed that maybe Spock doesn't look so stupid with that damn haircut, and that maybe he's really not the cold, loveless person he's thought to be, all he's cared about is trying to forget all he's noticed.  
He would do anything to stop thinking about the way he looks when the starlight casts shadows across his face, when he gives an order (or takes one, Jim thinks, mentally cursing himself), the way his gaze never waver's on Jim's, even when Jim flinches away.  
Or the way that he has a few, maybe only 4 or 5, freckles across his nose.  
Or the time that he leaned against Jim's shoulder, most likely on accident, even though Jim could swear it seemed intentional and lingering.  
Or maybe the way that despite often being recieved as cold, he's actually fiercely loyal, and probably the most dedicated person aboard the ship.  
Or the way that he seems to have a certain smile, or even small absence of one, that feels like it's just for Jim.  
He shakes himself at the memory, orders another drink and scans the bar for tonight's candidates.  
Sometimes it feels pathetic, his emotions and his words mostly fabricated, but usually it just feels like nothing at all.  
He's broadened his horizons since first recognizing his feelings for Spock; after all, it's not like there's an abundance of Vulcan officers around just jumping at the chance to participate in pathetic lookalike sex with him.  
Not that there's any Vulcan officers besides Spock anyways, and there's only three people on the whole ship that he's certain could look or feel enough like him in the dark anyways.  
And all of those times were an immense misuse of his authority, and he still winces at the memory.  
Though all of them had been eager, Jim still feels guilty.  
He knows how it feels to be on the recieving end of something like this, but he just can't help himself. The least he can do is avoid actually letting any of them know that his interest lies elsewhere.  
So what if it's sad that the captain of the ship also happens to be its most miserable passenger?  
Jim hasn't told a damn soul, besides one slip up comment to Bones when he was shitfaced, that he's certain neither of them remember very clearly.  
Sometimes he faintly recalls himself saying, "Bones, I'm practically obsessed with the guy," and flinches.  
He runs a hand over his face and ignores Scotty calling his name somewhere across the room.  
He forces himself to assess his options: there's a brunette, human, across the bar, and though he meets Kirk's eyes with a grin, the line of his shoulders is much too broad, his hair too long and untidy.  
Jim's probably reading the look wrong, anyways, because he's already got an arm around an Orion girl. But hey, you never know.  
There's an alien boy at the other end, and his skin gives off a silvery glow. His hair is sort of curly, and a pale blue that feels too soft in comparison to his dark eyes.  
He's pretty, someone that might be Jim's type, if Jim's type wasn't currently assimilated into one very specific ideal.  
He catches Jim's eye, dipping his finger in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and-  
Jim turns away.  
He feels ridiculous because for the first time in his life, the prospect of anonymous sex with a beautiful stranger feels really fucking depressing.  
But he'd really, really like to not go back to his room alone tonight.  
Alone, it's just him and his heartbeat in some blank hotel room and his thousands of thoughts about what Spock's hands would feel like-  
He stands from the bar abruptly, turning and stumbling chest to chest with someone, his drink tipping over by his hand.  
Practiced fingers catch the glass before it spills, another hand catching Jim in the small of his back, steadying him, all at once.  
Jim has both hands against the bar behind him, gripping hard enough to get splinters from the old wood, but he somehow grips it even harder when he hears the person take a steady breath in.  
"Captain." A familiar voice greets him, polite and stern as always.  
Jim would recognize him anywhere.  
He can't bring himself to look up, can't meet those impossibly warm eyes, can't breathe because he can feel entirely too much at once.  
He also can't help but notice how easily their bodies match up. He curses himself for reacting immediately, unconsiously moving towards him.  
The fingers at his spine are practically electric, and jesus, he's got to be at least ten degrees warmer than Jim, and he has to stop himself from leaning against the touch.  
"Spock," he exhales, and he finds he can't draw another breath, and god, he's going to be sick right then and there.  
He closes his eyes, fights back the dizziness.  
Silence greets him then, and he forces himself to take a shaky breath and look up, praying Spock won't feel the rattling in his chest.  
"Are you alright, Captain?"  
He looks like he always does; perfectly composed, a statue made of ice, not a hair out of place.  
He looks good.  
Jim thinks, though, that there's a slight green flush across his nose and ears, but then he reassures himself that it's just the dim lighting.  
He doesn't posess the means to make Spock blush.  
He also thinks that he is definately, certainly going to throw up.  
They're inches apart, Jim's chest heaving and his hands shaking, while Spock's face betrays nothing. He remains perfectly still, an immovable object, where Jim is an easily stopped force.  
Jim nods once, and that hand leaves his back, and Spock takes one calculated step away.  
Jim hates himself for feeling the loss of warmth immediately.  
Spock looks him up and down, and it feels more like a scientist sizing up a specimen than anything else, but Jim shivers anyways.  
Spock quirks an eyebrow, clasps his hands behind his back, perfectly still, even though Jim's broken out in a sweat.  
"Perhaps I should accompany you back to your room?"  
His tone betrays nothing, and his offer is only polite, but in Jim's head, he pretends that he says it like a proposition.  
The words float through his mind in a softer, honey tone, the fingers that were on his back slip up his shirt.  
"I..." He remembers where he is.  
Looking at Spock, just standing there, a picture of composure while Jim falls apart, Jim feels overwhemed.  
"I can take care of myself." Jim spits the words like acid.  
Spock doesn't even flinch, but presses his mouth shut in a tight line, and Jim thinks that his flush deepens a bit .  
Jim pushes past him roughly.  
Without turning back, he shoves the bathroom door open, and presses his back against it for a moment.  
He feels his eyes start to sting, and he groans, stepping to the sink.  
"Really pathetic, Kirk." He mumbles to himself in the mirror, turns the water on and lets it run while he looks at his reflection.  
The mirror is dirty and the lighting is dim, and Jim's about 5 drinks into the night which isn't his best look, but even then, he's not half bad.  
I'd take me home, he thinks, and then shakes his head.  
Why bother ? It doesn't matter how good he looks, anyways.  
Spock's not taking anyone home, let alone Kirk.  
He lets that sink in. There's a small semblance of comfort in that fact at the very least.  
Though others have looked, probably even asked, Jim hadn't ever actually seen Spock with someone.  
Still he's certain that he'd be his last choice, if the choice were to even exist. He's just an earth boy, underneath all of this, and Spock has worlds of people to choose from. Kirk pales in comparison.  
He runs his hands under the cool water, takes a few deep breaths, reminds himself who and what he is.  
Jim meets another pair of eyes in the mirror, and this time they aren't his own.  
The stranger is tall, fairly lanky and pale, leaning one shoulder against the tiled wall and looking right at Jim.  
Jim notes his dark eyes, then his dark hair. Maybe even black, but hard to tell in the lighting. It's messier than Spock's, but a few strands fall down onto his forehead and Jim thinks, to hell with it.  
Not every one has to be perfect, and Jim thinks he's just drunk enough.  
He turns the sink off slowly, and shifts his feet to face the boy.  
Before Jim can speak they're practically face to face, and the only sound is his own heavy breathing.  
Jim's eyes are a little bleary, and he finds it easy to imagine Spock in his place.  
He's reached the point in the night where he no longer feels modest, and allows himself to admit just what he's looking for here.  
The stranger's mouth brushes his ear as he breathes,  
"May I?"  
His voice is a bit too rough, and less precise, but the words fit.  
Jim tilts his head back and closes his eyes, and thinks that yeah, he's found it tonight.  
A hand grazes his cheek, another settles against his waist.  
Jim remembers to respond.  
"Please," He says, voice breaking, even though it isn't really what he means.  
He feels warm now. They're chest to chest, just like when Jim ran into Spock at the bar. It's almost too easy to picture it.  
The stranger is kissing him now, and it's a bit rougher than he'd imagine it, but it works.  
He kisses back, with just as much enthusiasm as if he actually meant it. As if this wasn't just an act.  
No names are exchanged, and Jim feels like it's better this way. The anonymity works for them, and it works for him because he's already got something else in mind.  
The stranger's careful fingers trace his hips, and Jim keeps his eyes closed.  
He thinks of Spock's hand against his back.

~

Jim wakes up with a headache, a back ache, and an overwhelming amount of self pity.  
He's not in his own room, he realizes as he blinks his bleary eyes, and there's a slender arm thrown across his waist.  
He slides out from under it, wincing at the way his head swims as he sits up.  
He turns his head to look at last night's collossal fuckup, and is pleasantly surprised.  
He's probably a year or two younger than Jim, with soft features and fair skin. He's still sleeping, hair mussed, with a split lip that Jim wonders vaguely about.  
He's good looking, Jim notes.  
He looks much different from the way he did last night, but Jim's definately had worse.  
He vaguely recalls being kissed in the bathroom, later pinned to the bed by both wrists, biting his tongue ten or fifteen times to avoid embarassing them both.  
He's ashamed to realize he can't really remember much else.  
He takes a deep breath, eyes closed, mind immediately drifting to a cold, unwavering stare, a pale face with only the lightest touch of a smile. It feels like even now, somehow, he's mocking Jim.  
He reassures himself that yes, he's had worse, gets dressed and slips out the door in less than five minutes. 

~ 

Jim considers himself fairly practiced at bullshitting.  
He spends his entire day doing it; pretending like he's fine back on the bridge, even cracking a joke or two, cold shouldering Spock without seeming too obvious.  
He's four or five hours into his shift when he remembers he hasn't eaten, and that the vague headache that won't leave could be because he's running on fumes . Or the countless amount of drinks he had the night before.  
He slips out the door as inconspicuously as he can, being the captain and all. He plans on just grabbing a sandwich from the replicator and heading back, but in his rush he ends up right where he started last night.  
"Captain," Spock actually sounds slightly surprised, and he looks it too. Well, as much as Jim has ever seen him look surprised.  
There are small, quick moments when he's caught off guard, when he doesn't really look icy at all, he just looks young and almost soft.  
Jim keeps track of these occasions, calls upon the memories when he's alone.  
"Commander," Jim responds, focusing on keeping his voice even.  
Spock's in his science blues, of course, and his entire uniform pristine, looks like he's just waiting for someone to mess it up. Jim wants more than anything to be that someone.  
Spock has no idea how devastating he looks in uniform, and Jim has absolutely no intentions in telling him.  
Jim hopes his face betrays nothing, and from Spock's lack of reaction, he's suddenly confident that it does.  
"You are due on the bridge, are you not?"  
It's not really a question, because they both know it's true.  
Jim thinks that maybe, if he felt differently, he could reply with a joke, and Spock might even look a little amused, and they'd share a good moment.  
But Jim's tense, tired, and he spent the night with a stranger, imagining Spock in his place.  
It's kind of hard to pretend like things are just fine.  
He waits to speak, fumbles a bit with his fingers, shifts on his feet.  
"Yeah. I'm on my way back right now."  
He weighs his options and decides that yes, the safest place is on the bridge, surrounded by people, where he's much less tempted to grab Spock and show him everything he's been thinking.  
"As am I." He gestures with one hand towards the bridge.  
Jim turns, and they walk together the short distance back, soundless.  
Just before they reach the door, Spock places a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
Jim freezes, and his heart skips a beat.  
"Spock?" It's barely a sound, more of a wheeze, and Jim might be embarassed if Spock's fingers weren't reaching up to his collar, tugging lightly at his shirt.  
Jim focuses on keeping perfectly still. The lighting here is much brighter than the bar last night, and Jim is completely certain now that Spock is flushed green.  
Spock's eyes are trained there, examining, and he looks almost angry, and his tone betrays the slightest bitterness.  
"It is... unbecoming for a captain to publicly bear such marks."  
His disapproval is broadcast loud and clear.  
Jim goes scarlet, takes a step back and clears his throat.  
"Perhaps it would serve you to keep that in mind."  
Spock drops his hand, his tone perfectly even now, face stony.  
"I, uh, listen it's not like I-" He's tripping over his words, not that it's anything new. "I'm really not like-"  
"It is not business I wish to know," Spock's voice is cold again, his back rigid, and then he's gone, through the door, leaving Kirk to stutter to himself. 

~ 

The last few hours were, as he'd predicted, agonizing.  
Spock sat where he always did, and even though he was always a steady five to ten feet from him, Jim still swore he could feel him breathing.  
Spock didn't look at him except a passing glance, icy and flat, like always .  
It should've felt good, or at least okay, that Spock was acting fairly normal.  
It should have been reassuring, that at least one of them could keep it together and act professional.  
Jim felt like shit anyways, precious logic aside.  
Just a few weeks ago, they'd been almost friends.  
They would sit together for lunch, and though words were sparse mostly, Jim had gotten him to almost crack a smile once or twice, and Spock had told him a few vague stories about when he was still living on Vulcan.  
Jim would lean in and laugh, Spock's mouth would quirk up at one corner and he would look down. For a minute or two, he would actually appear relaxed.  
That was all before Jim had admitted to himself that all of his leaning across the table, or his accidental brushing of Spock's wrist, or even an occasional sly comment meant more than just casual friendship.  
Sure, he'd always had a bit of a thing for Spock, but he used to at the very least be discreet.  
They hadn't known each other all that long, but Jim felt like he'd been stuck like this for ages.  
There were even times when Spock would lean back just the slightest bit, or he would walk Jim back to his room, and Jim would get to thinking that maybe, just maybe, Spock returned some sembance of his feelings.  
But then, back on the bridge, Spock would address him only formally, never step an inch closer, and it felt like Jim was going crazy, imagining everything else.  
Now, Jim reminds himself that Spock only views their relationship as professional, and anything beyond that is just him being polite.  
He doesn't understand human social cues completely, and is probably just going along with Jim.  
After his shift, Jim walks back to his room alone, leaves the lights off and gets into bed without changing.  
After what feels like hours, he resigns himself to a night awake.  
He gets up, stands in front of the mirror and blinks as his eyes adjust.  
He cranes his neck to the side, reaches up to touch the purple bruise at the edge of his collarbone.  
He thinks back to the way Spock looked at him earlier.  
Jim thinks that he regarded him with almost disgust, and can only imagine what Spock thinks of him.  
He's supposed to be an honorable person, a trustworthy one. He's not supposed to end up in random rooms during every shore leave, and he's definately not supposed to allow his judgment to be clouded by his feelings for his second in command.  
He tugs his shirt over his head, wincing at the way his shoulders protest.  
His chest is littered with light marks, some new, maybe from last night, some old and yellowing. The only one he can remember exactly is the bruise on his right arm, where he ran into the doorway while pretending not to be looking at Spock.  
When was the last time he thought of anybody else ?  
He can't remember when he started doing this, but he can remember why.  
He's never felt like this before. He's never actually cared so much about whether or not someone liked him back. He usually just moves on in a week or two. He's used to being alone at the end of things, and it's comfortable. He's used to being the one to end them, to having one foot out the door from the start.  
There were always girls, and boys, but no one and nothing exceptional. And he was okay with that. It was all in good fun.  
Things were always like that, and Jim accepted them, until he met Spock.  
They hated each other at first, but still, he wasn't blind, and aliens were never an exception for him.  
They were immediately at arms against one another, Spock probably moreso than Jim.  
It was hardly love at first sight.  
Still, Jim thought more than once about propositioning him for some angry sex, before realizing how far off he was with that idea.  
By the end of the first week of working together, he realized that Spock was far from the type of anonymous bar hookup that Jim was accustomed to.  
Jim figured they'd get to know each other, Jim would grow bored, and things would be fine again.  
Unfortunate, but he resigned himself to it.  
But the better he got to know Spock, the worse it got.  
They spent more time together. Even though it was strictly professional, Jim started to notice how Spock would flush faintly green when Jim would make certain remarks, the green catching him at the tips of his ears, across his nose, glancing across his cheekbones.  
The way that Spock's tone would change when he intended to be sarcastic or teasing.  
He went from fantasizing about sex to daydreaming about Spock's smile, about how he might look when he first wakes up.  
So it was never about sex, really, except for at the very beginning.  
Jim realized after a month that he was suffering from an actual crush.  
At which point he turned immediately to random hookups and drinking to remind himself of who he used to be. Because healthy coping was never his game.  
He used to be invincible, immune to all of this. His casual disinterest always served him well, and while his emotions ran hot, they were typically fleeting.  
And if those random hookups happen to all look like someone he might know, then it's just a coincidence, he tells himself at first.  
It's been about 6 months now, and Jim's tired himself out, and is running out of lookalikes, his vision blurring together all the aliens and humans with dark eyes into one portrait.  
He closes his eyes, presses his fingers into one of the bruises marking his throat, and tries to recount the mouth responsible.  
He could easily fabricate a fantasy, but forces himself to keep his mind blank.  
Jim's suddenly disgusted with himself.  
He shuts his eyes and turns the lights off again.  
He lays back down and forces himself to keep his eyes closed.  
He reminds himself he's just being stupid. Sex is just sex, like it's always been. And he's fine. These things always pass.  
He finally drifts off, but his sleep is restless and the night feels too long. 

~ 

"How the hell am I supposed to trust his judgment when the guy's carved out of ice?"  
Jim winces as Bones's practiced fingers press something to the cut on his forehead.  
Some missions were rougher than others.  
"How can I just automatically assume he'll have my back?"  
And sometimes Jim was better at dodging punches.  
"Well. Didn't he?" Bones quirks an eyebrow, and Jim groans.  
Bones is right; Spock had pushed him out of the way of an attack that would've meant a lot worse than some cuts and bruises.  
But it was just Spock doing what he does best; his job. Nothing personal.  
"It's about communicating, Bones." Bones rolls his eyes.  
"I'd say he did a damn good job, considering you're here , in one piece."  
Bones sighs, exhaling an impossible amount of air before he instructs Jim to follow a light with his eyes.  
He tips Jim's head back with fingers under his chin and sighs again.  
"You should tell him, Jim."  
Jim goes cold, moves to get up from the biobed.  
He isn't sure where he's going, but he thinks that getting blackout drunk and maybe dying in his sleep would serve him well.  
"Sit back down," Bones's hands are already at his shoulders, guiding him back into place rougher than necessary.  
Jim's head is spinning now.  
"Am I that obvious?" He rubs his eyes. He didn't think he was so transparent, but Bones is also surprisingly intuitive.  
And he knows Jim better than anyone.  
"To me," Bones sifts through a tray of tools, "yes. To him, I don't know. I can't imagine how his alien head must work. The guy's far from stupid, though, and your eyes are practically hearts, Jim."  
Jim scowls at him.  
"Hey, look. I'm just trying to help." He adds, raising one hand, conciliatory.  
"Whatever. It's not like it matters, anyways, I'm supposed to be the captain. Not only would it look bad-"  
"Since you care so much about appearing professional." Bones scoffs.  
"It's not worth it, Bones." Jim's tone drops quieter, even though they're alone. "If it goes south, I'll have to transfer him to another ship. I can't face him. I'm risking more than just embarassment here. When he rejects me, it's going to ruin everything. I would jeopardize this entire ship. This crew. Do you really think a stupid crush is worth all of that?"  
Bones sighs again.  
"Listen, Jim. I'm not gonna get too involved, but I am gonna tell you this. If it was just a stupid crush, I don't think you'd be acting like this. I've seen a few stupid crushes. I'm not the only one who's noticed, either. You're far from subtle. The entire crew sees you sneaking off with Spock 2.0 every other night," Bones shoots him a hard look when he starts to protest, "That's your business. And hey, I guess I don't know him like you do. Hell, I don't think anybody does. I've never seen him so much as crack a smile, but just last week, he laughed when he was with you. I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but maybe you aren't the only one faking it."  
"Don't be stupid." Jim mumbles, but internally he notes what Bones is telling him.  
"And maybe you'd like to know that while you were out, he sat by your bed for hours."  
Jim pretends not to hear him, but knows that his heart rate picks up, and is certain Bones can tell.  
Hours, huh.  
"So maybe you should pay him a visit." 

~ 

Jim is stupid.  
He's been outside Spock's door for almost a half an hour, sweating, pacing, and he knows he's stupid. All of it is stupid.  
What can he even say?  
Hey, buddy, I know I've treated you like shit lately but I heard you might not actually hate me, so hey, want to makeout?  
He shakes himself, turns and decides to just go back to his room.  
It's not worth it, none of it. He can't put his personal feelings above the well being of his ship and his crew.  
Just because Bones talked him into thinking it could be even half of a good idea.  
Before he can take a step to go, the door opens.  
"J-Captain." Jim hears, and he's certain he only imagines the slight slip up. Spock is ever the professional.  
"Spock!" Jim pretends to be surprised, like he's not the one lingering outside Spock's room.  
Spock is dressed in his blues like always, and Jim finds it almost funny how he can tell that Spock is always truly put together, when Jim himself is wearing the same regulation shirt he wore the day before, thrown on in a haste. It just seems different.  
Jim looks him up and down, maybe a little indulgent, before he realizes that there's something wrong.  
Jim can't quite place it until he finally meets his eyes.  
Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought, because it looks like Spock's been crying.  
"Are you...." Jim starts, and then decides against it, because Spock is already straightening his shirt and tilting his head to look coolly back at him. Fixing his control perfectly in place. "I came to talk to you," he blurts out before he can talk himself down.  
"Regarding?" Spock raised an eyebrow, and any trace of emotion his eyes previously held is gone, marked only by the slight darkness under his eyes.  
Jim takes a deep breath.  
"Can we go inside?"  
Spock hesitates, and for a fleeting moment doubt crosses his face, but he steps to the side and gestures for Jim to walk inside.  
"Are you ill, captain?" Spock asks, the door closing behind him.  
Jim has been in Spock's room twice before, once for chess and once to discuss a ship malfunction. It looks far from lived in; the bed is made, nothing is cluttered or messy. The only indication that Spock lives here at all is a glass of water on the table beside the bed, and the fact that Spock is now moving to sit at the foot of the bed.  
"No, Spock, I'm not sick."  
Spock nods once, keeps his head down.  
It takes Jim a second to work up the guts, but he goes to sit next to him.  
He misjudged the distance between them, and the bed is softer than he anticipated, so he sinks in when he sits, and finds himself knee to knee with Spock.  
He swallows roughly.  
"Are... do you want to talk about it?" Jim can't really see his face, and doesn't dare move.  
"I am... perhaps you..." Spock takes a breath, and it sounds slightly shaky. He braces his hands on his knees, his fingers accidentally brushing Jim's. Jim jumps back, and then tries to hide it by running a hand through his hair.  
"It would seem I am not in the best state to discuss Starfleet business with you right now, Jim."  
Jim pretends like hearing his name doesn't affect him at all, even though his body betrays him and he's immediately warm all over.  
"I'm not here for business." Jim just wants to move away, wants to move miles away from him, so he can stop feeling Spock's leg against his own. He tries to stop focusing on how warm he is, on how every other breath he takes is shaky now, and his hands have balled up in fists. He tries to think of anything else, anyone else, but it's impossible.  
"Jim- Captain- I would rather you leave at this time." Spock's voice is low, his tone soft.  
Jim knows it's not fair, and it's not a good time for either of them, but he thinks that if he doesn't say something now, he never will.  
He's suffocating.  
He reaches out, slow, places the tips of his fingers on Spock's upper arm. He's gentle, so gentle that he can't even feel the heat of his skin through the featherlight touch. He's afraid.  
"Look. I really. I don't know why I came here tonight. I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Spock looks up, eyes shining, and he looks as if he's physically biting his own tongue. Christ, Jim thinks. He knows it's wrong but Spock looks so human, so good. Jim's never actually seen him like this before, and he has to stop, breathe, marvel.  
He has to force himself to speak again. He has to tell him.  
"And I don't. I don't expect anything from you," They're entirely too close, and Spock's hands have relaxed, leaving his fingers to brush against Jim's knee as he shifts.  
Spock looks as if he's steeling himself, as if he's afraid of what Jim might be able to say to him.  
Jim's stomach lurches.  
He can't tell him . Not now , like this. Probably not ever.  
"I'm sorry. I can't do this." Jim forces out. He immediately moves to stand.  
Spock's hand shoots out, catches his wrist, and it's painfully tight but Jim has no desire to move. He knows that with just a quick movement, Spock could probably break his arm or wrist, but with the warmth of Spock's fingers radiating into him, he couldn't care less.  
"Jim." Spock says, pleading, but when Jim looks at him, his face is void of anything.  
Spock's fingers shift, just a light brush across Jim's pulse. It's over before he can even feel it, and Jim's not really a romantic, but he swears he sees stars.  
Then Spock's grip on him loosens, and Jim sighs. He can't stay here, can't allow himself to take advantage of Spock when he's so vulnerable, no matter how much he wants to.  
Though he doubts that Spock would even let Jim get closer than this. In his mind, Jim imagines an alternate scenario where Spock pulls him close again, tells him he feels the same.  
But none of that is real.  
Jim pulls out of his grip, stands there in front of him.  
Spock's face turns to stone.  
"If your intentions in coming here tonight were..." Spock starts, looking at his hands in his lap. "To proposition me,"  
"What?" Jim can barely speak.  
In his head, he's replaying Spock's fingers running over his arm, remembering how he's heard that Vulcans kiss with their fingers.  
Assuring himself that he's imagining it like that.  
"I only mean to correct you, captain." Spock offers, looking up at him, perfectly calm. The formality in his voice makes Jim's stomach turn.  
Jim thinks back to the last few moments:  
Himself saying, "I don't know why I came here,"  
Immediately moving to sit next to him on the bed, his fingers brushing Spock's thigh.  
Jim realizes how it could have all come across.  
"And I'm in need of correction?" There's suddenly not enough air in the room.  
"I cannot give you what you want, Jim." He sounds almost sad, but his face is flat. He meets Jim's eyes, but any trace of tears or emotion have been wiped away.  
"Oh, right, because you know so much about what I want." Jim fights to keep the spite out of his voice, but it shows anyways.  
"I have observed you on more than one occasion," Spock stands, straightens his clothes, then stands perfectly still. Jim knows what he'll say, but waits anyways. "On leave, you are often inclined to participate in promiscuous behavior." His tone is careful, but his words are harsh.  
"Promiscuous behavior." Jim repeats dumbly.  
"Which is business that is, of course, of a personal nature to you, captain."  
"You know what, Spock? You're right." Jim scowls. "My promiscuous behavior is my personal business. Thank you for pointing that out."  
Spock takes a step closer, and Jim flinches.  
"It was not my intention to offend you."  
"Of course not." Jim looks down, and hates himself because he finds he can't even stay angry.  
He knows that Spock doesn't mean to insult him, but Jim feels guilty and shitty anyways.  
"Do you still wish to talk?" Spock's voice is softer now, as if he's sorry.  
Jim decides that at least one of them has to have emotions, and he no longer cares if he's being unfair.  
"What's to say? You've said it all, really. I'm disgusting, horribly human. A real bother to somebody like you, I'm sure." Jim turns before he can look at him.  
"Jim-" There's desperation plain in his voice, and it stops Jim in his tracks. He takes a deep breath, but doesn't turn around.  
It was stupid of him to think that he could come here, confess, and then bandage everything like nothing had happened. To think that things could just go back to normal.  
"Listen, Spock. Everything is fine. Don't worry about it. I'm... I'm just a little drunk and tired. It was a mistake, coming here tonight. Forget it, okay?"  
Jim can feel him stepping closer, and he steels himself, turns around.  
"Okay." Spock repeats, and he brings his hand up as if he might touch Jim's face, but hesitates.  
Jim feels his face go red, his breath hitches, and he shuts his eyes.  
"Goodnight," He blurts out, and he practically falls out the door.  
He risks a quick look back, but Spock's not there, and the door is closed. 

~ 

The next three days are awkward, to say the least.  
Jim spend all his time looking at the ground, and from the occasional glimpses he steals, it looks like Spock is doing the same.  
It would seem they're both ashamed of the emotions they each displayed in Spock's room that night, and Jim is grateful to think that they won't have to talk about any of it again.  
He feels stupid for even thinking of telling Spock. The last thing either of them need is the heavy weight of Jim's feelings between them.  
They work together, and the importance of both of their jobs outweighs any personal feeling either of them have.  
He thinks often of the way Spock slid his fingers over his arm, but the more he recounts the memory the more he's sure he imagined it.  
Jim reminds himself this at least ten times a day.  
After a while, Spock starts to sit with him on occasion again, and Jim gets him to smile twice, and things are starting to feel normal again. 

~ 

They're sitting on Spock's floor playing chess.  
Jim is losing, horribly, and it could be because Spock is a good opponent, or it could be because tonight, Spock's dressed in a plain black T shirt instead of his uniform.  
Not that Jim actually notices or anything. Not that he's noted how Spock has three freckles on his right arm and two on the back of his left hand. Not that he's noted how much easier it is to watch the shift of his shoulders without the extra bulk of his blue sweater.  
Because all of that would be innappropriate, Jim reminds himself.  
Spock is, as always, oblivious to Jim's fumbling, and his eyes are warm each time they meet Jim's.  
Things are comfortable. Jim wouldn't sacrifice this for anything in the world.  
Even if Spock never really knows, he thinks, at least I can have him like this. It's enough.  
"Jim," Spock sighs, but it isn't a sad sound. He's content.  
"Spock," Jim replies, resting his face in his hands, his elbows braced on his knees. He knows he probably looks like a lovesick puppy, but can't find the energy to care. Spock probably doesn't realize it anyways. He smiles lazily.  
"Do you.... Would you..." Spock trails off, and he's looking at Jim.  
"Yeah?" Jim breathes, reminds himself to keep it together. Reminds himself that this is his friend, his first officer; nothing else.  
"There is a shore leave in two days." Spock says, slow, calculated. The mood shifts.  
"Oh. Uh, yeah. There is." Jim clears his throat and looks down, recalling the conversation they had that night, about Jim's promiscuity and Spock's clear lack of interest.  
When Jim looks up, he's surprised to see Spock fidgeting with a chess piece.  
"I only mean to wish you a pleasant time." He says, voice low, unsure, like that's definately not what he wants to say.  
"Uh, thanks." Jim can feel heat creeping up his neck, and he coughs once.  
He really, really doesn't want to talk to Spock about how he's going to go off and hook up with the first person he sees.  
"And perhaps, if you find yourself with an abundance of time-"  
"Hey, can we just, not talk about this, please?" Jim rubs his eyes, sits back. "I know you disapprove of me and whatever. But for tonight, can we just act like we get along?"  
Spock is silent, confusion crossing his face.  
"Jim, I..." Spock looks serious, sits up straighter, leans to place a hand on Jim's forearm. "I assumed my positive regard for you was obvious, and I am sorry if you believed me to think otherwise of you."  
Jim decodes this in his head as: I'm sorry you thought I called you a slut, really I think you're cool.  
"Oh. I just... that time when you..."  
"I did not mean to allow my emotions to dictate our communication."  
Whoa. Emotions? Jim sits up, suddenly too aware of Spock's warm touch, even through his shirt, and it's all too much.  
"Your ... emotions?" Jim asks, and it's too loud, and he feels stupid but doesn't really care.  
Spock's gaze wavers, he looks away.  
Jim breathes heavy in the space between them, and he practically broadcasts his desperation, utterly human and falling to pieces.  
Spock is a picture of composure, unaware.  
"You are not the only one to often forget that I am half human," Spock explains, and his words are a little rushed, and his face falters.  
Jim nods.  
"No I, I didn't mean that I didn't think you actually had emotions," A nervous laugh slips out. "I just didn't think that they uh, affected our uh, communication."  
Nice, Jim, great way to make him feel like you're mocking him.  
Jim looks up, as if some God, or the stars, or somebody will save him.  
"Please. Accept my apologies. My intentions were never to make you uncomfortable." Spock's voice seems vaguely pleading, as if he'd rather Jim ended the conversation.  
He's avoiding the question, and Jim knows it, but he also knows when to quit. With an inward groan, he resigns himself.  
"Apology accepted," He forces a smile that becomes real as Spock returns it with a much more subtle one.  
"So, are you gonna finish kicking my ass, or what?" He gestures to the game, and Spock nods once, the remnants of the smile still on his mouth.  
And if Jim thinks of kissing it away, well, who's keeping track anyways? 

~ 

 

"And then you what?" Bones looks scandalized, eyes wide, while somehow still looking annoyed.  
He wraps a bandage across Jim's hand with his careful fingers, while Jim recounts the details of the night of chess.  
Bones is shaking his head.  
"So let me get this all straight. He tells you he has emotions, you fumble like an idiot, panic and go back to your room and get blackout drunk, and smash your hand in a door? All in one night?"  
Actually, to be specific, Jim had gone back to his room and cried, thought about Spock's hands, drank himself half to death, smashed his hand and then blacked out.  
He's not usually one for nights like those, but extreme circumstances call for extreme measures.  
And lately, the circumstances seem to be extreme more than they're not.  
Jim scowls, but nods.  
"Not blackout drunk," He offers the small correction, "I was awake when I shut my hand in the door."  
Bones groans.  
"Jim. You've got to tell him."  
Jim nods as if he's considering it.  
"Tell him what? Hey, Spock, I know you're purposely out of touch with your emotions but I've been thinking about sleeping with you for months and-"  
"Maybe a little too personal, Jim," Bones grimaces.  
Jim rolls his eyes.  
"Well? I'm not sure how you expect me to be all touchy feely when he'll barely even smile at me."  
"Jim, I can't believe they gave you a ship. You're legally blind."  
"Yeah, yeah, I know you seem to think it's so mutual but I can assure you. It's not. He doesn't think that way about me, and he sure as hell doesn't feel anything like I do."  
Bones runs a hand down his face.  
"Jim, just say something to him. At the very least the guy will let you down easy. His room is on the way to yours. Stop by."  
"Can't I just spend the night here instead?" Jim pleads, only half joking as Bones rolls his eyes.  
"I mean it. You two have been dancing around each other for months now. It's sad, really."  
"Who's dancing?" Jim frowns, pulls his hand away and stands. "I'm happy being friends with him." He fakes a smile, and Bones sees right through him. "Honest."  
Bones cocks an eyebrow, starts to put his supplies away.  
"Fine, but," Bones warns, "Happy people don't get wasted and slam their own hands in doors."  
"Maybe this happy person does," he shrugs.  
"Sure. Remember, you're not the only one who doesn't like to express his emotions, Jim."  
Jim shakes his head and leaves, but Bones's words stick to him longer than he'd like to admit.  
That usually means he's right. 

~ 

"Captain," The greeting is accompanied by a slight nod of his head as Spock steps aside to let Jim pass.  
"Commander," Jim replies, moving to step past him onto the bridge.  
"Jim-" Spock stops him. "Captain. You are injured." He frowns, eyes locking onto Jim's bandaged hand.  
"Oh, ah. Just some bruises, I'm fine."  
Spock nods again, but his frown deepens.  
Jim hides a smile, pats Spock's shoulder.  
"Thanks for looking after me, Spock." Jim nods, and Spock does nothing.  
After another moment of silence, Jim looks away and steps past him.  
They don't speak of Jim's hand again, but Jim catches Spock's eyes lingering on the bandages more than once, a look of almost sadness in his eyes.  
When Jim looks back, Spock turns away.  
The rest of the day, Jim feels kind of strange, but can't quite place the feeling. 

~

Jim dreams that Spock is kissing him, on the bridge, in front of everyone.  
It would almost be sweet, if everyone else didn't seem horrified.  
The ship is full of people who despise them, who despise him, the captain, for being weak.  
When Spock pulls away, he wears the same look of disgust and disdain.  
"You are not good enough," Spock's voice rings in his ears.  
Jim wakes in a cold sweat, head spinning.  
He can't even seem to find peace in sleep these days.  
He groans.  
He doesn't fall back asleep for the rest of the night. 

~ 

Jim sparks a fight with Spock the next morning.  
They are both walking down the bridge, and since Spock's room is further but his pace is faster, they usually end up together somewhere along the way.  
Spock asks him something about a mission that Jim doesn't hear, and then stops him with a hand on his arm.  
Jim tears himself away, breathing heavy already.  
"Where do you get off?" Jim winces at his wording, at the innuendo that Spock undoubtedly doesn't understand, and fuck if Jim can't keep his mind off of Spock for five seconds. He's angry now, and it's irrational because Spock truly hasn't done anything.  
He hates himself for being so emotional, for being so full of feeling where Spock is empty in front of him.  
"Captain?" Spock questions, but Jim is already pushing roughly at his shoulder, and Spock is frowning. He pushes him again, Spock's back connecting with the wall in a dull thud. He winces, but it's subtle, and Jim doesn't really register it.  
He makes no move to fight back- not that he would, anyways. He's not the type and Jim is the captain, for fuck's sake.  
Jim is the captain.  
"Why do you have to be so goddamn perfect all the time?" Jim huffs, thinks of pushing him again, or of taking a swing, just to see Spock falter. Just to break him.  
He decides against it almost as quick as he thinks of it, but his hands are still itching to make some kind of contact. He digs his nails into his palms.  
He knows that even if he managed to get a good hit in, Spock would just take it. Jim would never be able to pull the reaction out of him that he craved. He didn't have that kind of hold over him.  
"Fuck," He says, to himself, and he shuts his eyes.  
"Captain, if I have done something to," Spock's voice is measured; careful? Afraid? "Provoke you, I wish to know what."  
Jim looks at him.  
He wears a light mask of concern, eyebrows drawn together, hands clasped behind his back.  
Jim wants to shake him, wants to hit him, wants to kiss him all at once.  
Just to see him feel something.  
Anything.  
Jim is desperate to grasp some kind of purchase in this situation; he feels like he's sliding off the cliff. And Spock, damn him, is standing right there at the top, hands behind his back as if they are tied.  
Jim says nothing, just turns and walks away.  
Spock doesn't ask him about it all day. 

~ 

Jim feels like he's a live wire for the next week.  
He can't even look at Spock, let alone talk to him, without wanting to scream.  
He knows he's acting out, and half of him wants to apologize for trying to fight Spock the other day. The other half of him wants to do it again.  
He's tense with everyone else too, and Bones points this out more than once.  
He tries to remain professional, to focus on his tasks at hand and all his endless responsibilities.  
But if he's honest with himself, he ghosts through his days and lays awake at night with a suspicious prickling at the backs of his eyes.  
Spock notices, too. He points out twice that Jim looks tired, and Jim is harsher than necessary when he waves him off.  
He knows it's unfair and more than a little mean. He spends half his time being cold to him, and the other half buddying up to him. He can only imagine that Spock has whiplash by now.  
Jim can't help it. He's constantly full to the brim of emotions that he loathes, but can't seem to reign in. He can barely even look at Spock without wanting to scream.  
Their conversations are all cursory, polite; nothing more. Jim is hostile more than he's not, and Spock is always calm, composed beyond belief.  
He does his job flawlessly like always, and doesn't linger, especially around Jim.  
Jim's not sure what he honestly expected.  
For Spock to turn up at his door in the night, professing his love?  
No, that wouldn't be his style, anyways.  
At this point, Jim just hopes they can both forget everything. 

~ 

"You're acting like a damn baby," Bones tells him, over a glass of brandy.  
Bones's room always feels like some kind of a second home to Jim, but he thinks that it's probablt just the booze and the fact that Bones gives good advice.  
"Probably," Jim smiles, but it hurts his face and feels forced. They sit across the table from one another.  
"Really. Picking a fight with him? As if you'd even win that. Vulcans outmatch humans in every way, Jim. What if he'd actually fought back?"  
"He wouldn't." Jim says simply, and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth because it's true. He knew that, and he still raised his hand to hit Spock. He grimaces and takes a drink.  
"Yeah. Well, there's only so much a person can take. And you seem hell-bent on finding out just how much that is for him." Bones holds his gaze.  
"I don't know why things can't just go back to normal."  
"Because it's not normal, not anymore. You can't spend time with him now, because your feelings are eating you. Can't you just admit you've hit a hard limit?"  
Jim sighs.  
"Because I don't even think I want this, Bones."  
"Don't want what, him? Because we're friends here, Jim, and we both know-"  
"I don't even know if I want him to know!" His voice is sharp, and Bones shuts up. "I don't know if I want him to even feel the same. How could I really have anything close to what I'm feeling with my own first officer, anyways? I'm sure that violates all kinds of things. Things Spock would never dream of violating, even if, by some miracle, he felt the same."  
"Love does crazy things to people." Bones points out, and Jim groans.  
"Don't say love."  
"Okay, fine. Do you at least like like him, Jim?"  
"I'm not twelve." Jim frowns.  
"Then don't act like it." Bones replies, leaning back. "I still think that, after all this, he deserves to know. You're giving him hell every day and the guy's clueless as to why."  
"I'll just avoid him even harder then."  
Bones rolls his eyes.  
"And then what, in another month, you'll snap and jump his bones on the bridge?"  
Bones has a good point. Damn him, because he always does.  
The longer Jim puts it off, the more erratic his behavior towards Spock becomes.  
It's a theory that's already proving itself.  
"How do I even begin to tell him?"  
"I'm no expert at romance." Bones puts his hands up. "But if you aren't feeling very articulate, maybe try showing him how you feel."  
"What, paint him a portrait?" Jim snorts.  
"No, you idiot. Why don't you just kiss him? Vulcans do that, right? And there'll be no mistaking your intentions then." He shrugs, but he's smiling, like he knows his suggestion is ridiculous. Jim frowns in return.  
"I don't know, Bones." Jim feels cagey now. "That feels wrong. He's a person based in logic, and to catch him by surprise with pure emotion feels ... unfair."  
"He's also half human," Bones points out. "And you said you thought he might've kissed you in the, uh, other way, that time in his room. Even if it's not romantic, he still cares about you. You two can either work through or past all this."  
Jim lets Bones's words settle into him.  
He's always right, Jim thinks. 

 

~ 

This is more than innappropriate.  
Jim tells himself this for the tenth time, but he takes another drink, grimaces, and turns on a smile again anyways.  
Even after Bones's convincing speech, Jim feels just as lovesick as before, and twice as erratic.  
He's sitting in the commons area with a few crew members; just ensigns, people he doesn't know very well.  
They're just socializing; it's a Friday night, and the days have been slow.  
They're drinking, and things have slowly become what Jim could loosely classify as a party. It's late now, and he's tired, but way too tense to sleep.  
It's one thing to socialize with the crew, and another to drink with them, and a completely different game to be actively flirting with them.  
Despite his attempts to avoid acting and appearing completely unprofessional, here he is, leaning too close to a younger ensign, smiling when he stutters, bumping his hand purposely.  
Jim doesn't mean for any of it to happen like this, but somehow things always lead to other things and before he realizes it he has him up against the inside of his door.  
Usually Jim's much more apt to be the one pinned to the wall/door/bathroom stall (He's had some questionable nights). But this time he knows that the ensign doesn't have the guts to initiate it, and all Jim wants is to lose himself in something besides his thoughts for a while.  
Jim didn't ask his name; not that he'd want to think of it, anyways.  
He's a far cry from looking much of anything like Spock, but he's easy on the eyes and more than willing, and Jim's standards aren't very strict. He's younger than someone Jim would typically go for, and much more timid.  
Jim doesn't consider it much.  
He kisses him hard, not giving either of them a chance to really breathe or think.  
Hands are racing, and Jim's thoughts keep going back to how Spock wouldn't even look at him, wouldn't speak to him. How cold he was, how he'd never step an inch outside of his appropriate boundaries, how stupid Jim was to think that there was anything between them.  
Jim presses himself impossibly closer.  
Somehow, there's a breathy cry of, "Captain," in the air, and Jim has to pull away.  
Captain; the word rings in his ears.  
The ensign's mouth follows his back, lingering in a softer kiss, his hands reaching for Jim's waist.  
Jim pushes them back, closing his eyes.  
"Wait." He says.  
He can't do this.  
He can't be this person.  
"You're... I'm..." Jim shakes his head. It's dark, but the ensign sees him, and looks sheepish.  
"This is really innappropriate," Jim settles on this thought, and it's only half the problem, if he's honest with himself.  
"Captain, I-"  
"No. This is my fault, we've both been drinking. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have."  
Silence follows.  
Jim wishes desperately that he could explain this away, apologize in a way that felt substantial.  
"We can't do this. I'm sorry." He says, and he feels something like hysteria rising in his chest as the ensign nods once and slips out his door.  
Jim leaves the lights off, and sits up most of the night. 

~ 

Jim showers three times before getting dressed the next morning, as if he can somehow wash away the night before, wash away the months of all of this.  
He cries a little, feeling hysterical as he recalls Bones saying, "Just tell him." As if it could all be so simple.  
He skips breakfast, ignores his blooming headache and walks to the bridge without stopping. 

 

~

"Captain."  
The voice is outside his door, but even muffled, he's recognizable.  
Spock.  
He's the absolute last person Jim wants to see, but also the only person that might actually make him feel better.  
Jim had ended up standing up on the bridge, promptly blacking out and being hauled to medbay.  
Where Bones berated him for a half an hour on keeping up his health and strength, Jim's mind wandered until he made himself sick with harsh realities.  
Bones confined him to his room for the night.  
And now here they are, a role reversal of the night that Jim stood outside Spock's door. Except Jim is certain that their intentions are much different.  
"Enter," Jim calls out, sitting up.  
Spock walks in.  
He wears a slight look of concern on his strong features, and Jim smiles up at him. The moment feels calm, for once.  
"Are you well?" Spock asks, voice warm.  
"I'm okay." Jim responds, looking down.  
"I came to see if you... perhaps wanted some company."  
Jim perks up at that.  
"Company?"  
"If you would like me to go, I can leave." Spock offers, and Jim shakes his head.  
"No, I just..."  
"I understand that I am not your most favored person."  
"What?" Jim swallows, but it does nothing for the choked up feeling that's rising.  
"I do admit that I found us to be... a kind of friends at one time. Though I now recognize that that is not entirely the truth."  
"Look, Spock. I don't... I don't hate you. Or whatever. I'm sorry if you felt that way. I'm just working through some stuff." It's a lame excuse, but Jim doesn't know where to begin to explain himself, and he's tired. He shuts his eyes.  
"I did not realize."  
"Yeah . Well again, I'm sorry."  
Spock takes a few tentative steps, until he's in front of Jim.  
"Jim. If I have done anything to cause you any upset, please tell me." Jim takes a deep breath.  
"No. There's... nothing."  
He hasn't ever really blatantly lied to Spock in this way before, and it causes an unpleasant stirring in his stomach. He takes a deep breath.  
"Jim." Spock repeats.  
For another beat they're both still, and Jim's eyes search his face for any hint of expression. There's an alarming softness in Spock's dark eyes, and Jim has often imagined him looking at him this way, but now that he's really seeing it, he can only stare.  
Spock brings a hand up to Jim's face, and Jim lets his eyes close, forces himself to stay still.  
If he keeps looking, he thinks he could very well blackout.  
Spock's cool fingers ghost over his jaw.  
Holy shit, Jim thinks.  
Maybe he's misreading this, but he doesn't care.  
They're here now, Jim tells himself, and so what if he's not thinking clearly. He's wanted this for what feels like a hundred years.  
He's wanted him for that long.  
And if there's any part of Spock that feels the same, Jim wants it all.  
"Fuck it," Jim says, more to himself than anything, and he closes the distance between them.  
He crushes his mouth to Spock's, teeth clicking together, and Spock is stumbling back but he isn't pulling his face away. Jim holds his face in both hands, but his touch is loose enough for Spock to pull back if he tried.  
Jim feels brave. Braver than he has before; back in the academy, taking calculated risks and dares, aboard his ship on countless life or death missions. All of that is eclipsed by this one moment, his mouth to Spock's after all this time, in one solitary act of all his hidden affection.  
In two more steps Jim presses him to the wall. He hears his head make contact in a soft thud.  
For Jim, this is his fingertips finally diving into this beautiful and seemingly distant world where he's only ever had the courage to let his fingers skim the surface, never breaking.  
Here, he's certain that he's breaking.  
Jim can't breathe, can't think, and doesn't care.  
He's wanted this for so, so long, his head is spinning.  
Even if everything ends after this, he thinks, it will have been worth it.  
He's trying to pour all of this out to Spock through their contact, but if Spock recieves his thoughts he sends nothing back. Jim is giving, giving, and Spock is simply recieving. Spock is warm, so, so much warmer than he imagined him to be.  
Jim hates himself, feeling it like fire in his chest. He hates that he can be pulled apart so easily, by one tug of Spock's careful fingers, all his threads bound by this one touch, by one word.  
He twists both his hands in Spock's hair, probably too hard, backs him up hard against the wall again.  
One of Spock's hands scrambles for purchase against the wall, his other fumbles up Jim's back.  
Jim catches himself on the wall with one hand, nails scraping. He feels as if he can't get close enough.  
Spock is still beneath him for a moment.  
But then he's kissing back, both of his hands are racing over Jim's chest, his waist, his shoulders, like he can't feel enough, either.  
Jim wants to be the vessel through which Spock can finally show his emotions, can finally allow himself to feel. He wants to make Spock come apart just as much as he is.  
He thinks he could stay like this forever, not breathing or talking, just feeling.  
Spock pulls away.  
It's over too soon, before Jim can even register, and it's not enough. After months of this, after months of feeling and thinking of this, it's just not enough.  
Spock's eyes are wide, and something in his face looks broken.  
Jim thinks for a horrible second that he misread the situation, and that Spock's hands on him were really just him trying to pull away. Then he remembers that Spock's strength outmatches his own, and he'd have no problem pushing Jim away if that's what he really wanted.  
"I'm..." Jim wants to apologize, wants to say he regrets it, that he didn't mean it.  
But even if it's all over now, he thinks, it was worth it. Just those few seconds of pretending to have him were worth it.  
"Please." Is all he says, and it's full of emotion, his voice sounding raw.  
Jim breaks for what must be the tenth time in the last few minutes.  
They stand here together, on the precipice of everything Jim's been holding back, that he's been so certain was onesided, yet his affections are being mirrored. He can't understand why he's the only one who's breaking.  
"Spock," He says, tries to keep his voice soft, but it comes out hoarse. He reaches out, careful, but Spock catches his hand.  
Jim pulls back, afraid, but Spock's grip is a vice.  
Slowly, he pushes his hand up against Jim's, presses their fingers together, and Jim can't decide if he wants to watch their hands or his face more.  
Where their fingers meet, Jim feels heat, warmer than any of their other touches.  
Spock looks astounded, more bewildered than Jim has ever seen him, as if he didn't expect it, either.  
"This is... is this..." Jim breathes.  
"Yes. This is how ... we kiss." Spock's voice sounds rougher than Jim's heard it before.  
His hair is messy from Jim's hands, his shirt less pristine than usual.  
Jim can't help but feel satisfaction at knowing that finally, he's the one to break that flawless seal.  
Spock pulls back, looks away.  
"Jim, I..."  
Jim's stomach turns.  
He wrenches his eyes shut. "We can forget this. I'm sorry."  
There's silence between them for a few moments, and Jim's mentally packing up his emotions, storing them away, preparing himself for the final blow.  
His mouth still feels sore from their first kiss, but he presses his lips together now, keeps himself stern.  
"This is just-"  
"Jim..." Spock repeats, soft. His fingers reach up, ghost over Jim's mouth, shutting him up. "Do not be sorry."  
He keeps his hand against Jim's jaw, fingers scraping lightly, and Jim swallows.  
"Jim..." He says again, eyes even darker, and for the first real time, Jim sees him for what he is.  
Not a person devoid of emotion, but a person deeply in control of it. And yet here he is, in absolute pieces in front of Jim.  
It seems that finally, Jim can see that these feelings, at least these surface, physical feelings, are being given back to him as much as he's pouring them out.  
Jim wants to wait, let Spock close the distance this time, but he can't imagine staying inches apart for even another second.  
This time is no less harsh than the first, but Spock responds instantly now.  
He threads his fingers into Jim's hair, his other hand staying firm against his jaw.  
"Please, please, please," Jim chants, voice breaking. He tightens his grip on Spock's hair as his mouth drags across Jim's throat, teeth grating. His mouth settles against Jim's collarbone and he presses a gentle kiss there.  
Jim can't stop talking.  
"Even if this is just tonight, I-"  
Spock lifts his head, hands coming up to Jim's face again, kissing him and stealing his words away.  
Even if this is just tonight, he thinks. Even if it's just once. Please.  
He thinks he could simply allow himself to be deluded, to believe that this is all a great expression of love.  
Spock doesn't correct him, just kisses him and kisses him until he feels lightheaded.  
Jim doesn't remember who pushes who to the bed, but he thinks that it doesn't really matter.  
It's everything he thought it might be; sometimes hesitant, slow, asking, wanting, waiting. Other times it feels almost desperate. Jim's hands shake and fumble with Spock's clothes, where Spock is smooth and almost mechanical.  
Jim bumps noses with him, frantic fingers at the buttons on his pants, and murmurs apologies.  
Spock kisses them away. He speaks inarticulate half sentences in his native tongue, and Jim's head swims at all the possibilities of what he could actually be saying.  
"Jim. T'hy'la. Jim." In between straining touches in the darkness.  
Spock says his name, over and over, like he's memorising it.  
Jim says Spock's name on cue, but it's one he memorised long before this.  
Spock's teeth dig into his shoulder once when he arches up against him too fast, pain surging through him, but he doesn't care, can't care. He waves off Spock's concern, and holds back his request for him to do it again. The more marks this leaves on him, the easier it will be to remember it was real.  
Jim knows he's being too desperate, too eager.  
'Even if this is just tonight-' Jim remembers his own words.  
But Spock returns all his kisses and touches, and Jim can't find the energy to care.  
Their hands find each other in the darkness, fingers lace together.  
Just tonight.  
Jim bites his tongue to hold back a lot of promises and confessions, and he thinks that now he understands how Spock must feel, keeping his emotions on a leash.  
Jim keeps thinking how this is everything he's been dreaming about for months, his fingernails digging into Spock's spine, Spock a steady and constant presence above him.  
This is all of his fantasies come to life, somehow not quite what he pictured it'd be.  
Something in their touches lacks sincerity; where Jim is reaching out, Spock is simply meeting his skin.  
Afterwards, Spock presses their fingers together again, his face calm.  
They're silent as their breathing steadies, and Spock doesn't touch him except for their hands.  
He wakes up alone. 

~

It has been two full days since Jim slept with Spock, and just as long since they've had a real conversation.  
Jim refuses to admit it to himself, but he knows that Spock's purposefully ignoring him.  
He's unavailable constantly, and though they're side by side on the bridge, Spock is nothing but cordial and professional.  
Jim makes a point to linger near him, but Spock appears unaffected.  
Any other time, he disappears to a science lab, or his quarters, or some other place that Jim hasn't figured out yet.  
He's started to think that he fantasized the whole thing, though the fresh bruise on his neck, and the vague teeth marks on his shoulder would disagree.  
He doesn't understand how that night drained him of everything that he is, but Spock seems to be unaffected by it entirely.  
Jim considers transferring him on the second day, because he can't even look him in the eye, can't even stand being near him now that he knows what it's like to truly have him.  
Jim seeks out the only person that's ever been able to talk any sense into him. 

~ 

"Are you out of your mind?"  
Jim's not quite sure how to answer that.  
Bones is already pouring him a drink, one hand on his shoulder urging him to sit.  
They're in Bones's room, and it's late enough at night that Jim's woken him up.  
He feels guilty, but beyond that, he feels desperate.  
"Stop. Don't explain. Let me try to understand this first." Bones puts the glass in his hand. "So you... slept with him. Gloriously. Only he didn't stick around for the sleeping, and you guys didn't even talk about it?"  
"He's just acting like it didn't happen!"  
Bones puts his glass on the table and his face in his hands.  
"How did it happen?" Bones puts a hand up with a grimace. "Wait. Not the details. I mean, was it... bad, Jim? Awkward? The kind of thing you'd want to forget?" He speaks with hesitation.  
"I mean... I don't know Bones. It was... sudden. He seemed... he was on board the whole time. I tried to... be slow... I asked him..."  
"Relax, Jim. I'm not saying that you pressured him or anything." Bones puts a hand on his arm, and Jim realizes he's shaking. "It's okay."  
"But it's not, Bones. I fucked up, royally. And now here we are, where I knew I'd end up." He groans.  
"C'mon, it's not-"  
"It is. I got what I wanted and it's going to cost me everything else." Jim groans, rubs his eyes. "He doesn't feel that way. It was just a heat of the moment thing."  
"Last I checked, Vulcans don't really do 'heat of the moment'." Bones raises his eyebrows, sits back in his chair.  
"Well he's half human, so."  
"You'll hate this, but maybe you should talk to him, Jim."  
"I really, really don't want to do that."  
"Well, you've already fucked the guy-"  
"He fucked-"  
"I do not want to hear this," Bones grimaces and takes a drink.  
That at least earns a small smile from Jim, which Bones returns warmly.  
"This will all be okay, Jim." His tone is serious now. "Everything."  
Jim smiles at him, but doesn't believe him.  
After a while, Jim goes back to his room, and falls into a fitful sleep. 

 

~

Confrontation is very much ingrained in Jim Kirk's DNA. Usually, though, he prefers to keep it much more calculated.  
He'd rather confront the issue directly, but with tact, than to come at it with full emotional force.  
And yet, after reminding himself of all of these facts, his final tactic was to grab Spock by his shirt, ignore his protests, and haul him into a conference room. He locks the door behind them.  
This was the only way to effectively get him alone and listening long enough for Jim to voice the issue.  
As if it wasn't already obvious.  
"We need to talk." Jim says.  
"Regarding?" Spock looks perfectly calm, and he raises an eyebrow.  
Jim hates himself for recalling just how that same face, those same eyes, looked down at him.  
He clears his throat.  
"You know what it's regarding."  
"Captain, I-"  
"Do not call me that. Not here. Not when it's just... you and me." Jim's tone is sharper now.  
Spock is silent, watching and waiting for Jim to continue.  
"What the hell, Spock?" Very articulate, Jim. Spock opens his mouth to speak, but Jim goes on. "If you didn't want to do it, you shouldn't have. I asked you... don't act like I didn't give you an out, more than once. But you were just as much a participant as I was, if not even more, and then you just get cold feet? And leave? Without a word, without anything. Like it was... like it's just over, just like that?"  
Spock looks confused for a moment.  
"Jim. Are you upset?"  
Jim tries to take a deep breath, to steady himself, but it only fuels the anger that he feels rising in his chest.  
"Me? Upset? Oh, right. You mean because you fucked me and left me, like everybody else? Why would I be upset?" Jim hears hysteria rising in his voice, and doesn't care.  
"I didn't mean to get all sappy and disgustingly human on you, Spock." The words taste bad in his mouth, and he says them anyways.  
"Jim... I... " Spock looks small.  
"Save it. It was my bad, thinking you were someone that you just weren't. I just didn't realize that Vulcans were into casual fucks." Jim's words bite, harder than even he intends for them to. Harder than the teeth on his shoulder.  
He swallows.  
"So forget it. Let's just move on. But you can't treat me like a god damn ghost. Just. Would you just look at me, for christ's sake?"  
Jim's bleeding out in front of him again, and Spock will barely look up.  
He looks up now, though, wearing a mix of confusion and something like sadness.  
"Jim."  
Just with one word, Jim is breathless, and his shoulders drop. He hates being so easy, but can't help it. The hold that Spock has over him eclipses anything else.  
"It was not my intention to make you feel... unwanted. When in fact, rather the opposite is true."  
Jim swallows.  
Spock takes a few steps, closes the distance between them. When his hand comes up to Jim's cheek, he lets it, though he flinches from the touch.  
"What happened between us was," Spock looks at him, eyes slowly wandering. "Regrettable only in the fact that I did not behave as I should have."  
It's Jim's turn to look confused.  
"I did not leave because of you."  
"Then why?"  
"When confronted with the full weight of my feelings for you, I found that I could not comprehend them."  
"So you left." Jim says, flat. He doesn't understand, all he knows is that Spock is touching him, fingers shifting against his face, and he doesn't want it to stop, no matter how angry he is.  
"Yes. Which was regrettable. It was also wrong of me to assume it would be acceptable."  
"Yeah, no shit." Jim breathes.  
"I am sorry, Jim." Spock's fingers brush over his cheekbone. "Please forgive me. When I feel for you, it is in my nature to feel ashamed."  
Jim takes Spock's face in his hands.  
"Ashamed of me? Of this?"  
"Of myself." Spock's eyes drop.  
"But you control your emotions. You don't let them rule you. You discipline them."  
"When I am with you, Jim," Spock looks at him again. "I no longer feel disciplined."  
Jim searches his face, but Spock's expression gives little away, though his words are earnest.  
Spock is here, telling Jim what he needs to hear. Telling Jim that he feels, and he feels for him.  
"Look, Spock. I don't want to force you into something but..." Jim takes a deep breath. "I'm crazy about you, okay? I don't know what to do, but I don't want to lose you. I like you, but you mean more to me than just sex, or whatever this is going to be. And for the record, I'd like it to be more than that."  
Spock looks confused again.  
"Jim I... was under the impression that you preferred to... pair with multiple romantic partners. I have observed such behavior from you on shore leave."  
"Fuck." Jim groans, steps back. Both of their hands drop. "Spock, you don't actually think that what happened between us was just nothing to me, do you? That you're just a one night thing?"  
Spock looks uncertain.  
"Are you crazy?" Jim takes his hands, smiles up at him. "I want you more than anything."  
It feels too honest, even in the midst of all their confessions, and Jim feels a flush creep up his neck, but keeps going.  
"I've been thinking about you for ages. Even when... especially when I'm with somebody else. The other night wasn't just an impulse. For me, it was practically a dream come true." That's definately blush warming his cheeks now. He clears his throat. "And I don't expect you to get it, or to feel exactly the same, I just-"  
Spock kisses him then, soft but lingering. Jim forgets to close his eyes.  
"So maybe you do get it." Jim grins when he pulls back, and Spock returns it with a slight smile.  
His hands come to rest on Jim's shoulders, and there's a peacefulness in his face Jim's never seen.  
"I want to be with you." Jim murmurs, and he steps forward to rest his cheek on Spock's shoulder.  
"I cannot promise you that I will be what you need." Spock sounds unsure. Jim pulls back to look at him, but he's looking away.  
"You already are." He traces his fingers over Spock's jaw. "Give this a chance. Please."  
Jim wants to beg him, but knows it would be wrong. He won't ask more of Spock than he's willing to give.  
"I have never..." He trails off, his hands coming up to Jim's face again, warm. "Experienced this before."  
"I know." Jim tells him, and smiles. "Me neither, believe it or not." Jim rises to his toes to press a kiss to his cheek. His heart is racing, despite the gentleness of the situation.  
He can't believe that he's here, with him now, after so long.  
But if Spock wanted to walk away right now, Jim would let him go, regardless of how bad it would hurt.  
Still, he has to let himself be honest here and now.  
"I'm... I think I've fallen in love with you." Jim says, fast before he can talk himself down.  
Spock looks startled, eyes wide, but doesn't move.  
"And I'm sorry, Spock." Jim goes on. "But I can't help it. I don't care if this ruins everything. I need you to know this."  
"I cannot reciprocate your... emotions as a human would, Jim." He sounds and looks overhelmingly sad, and Jim reaches out for him again, his hands on Spock's upper arms. "I feel greatly for you." He whispers, eyes closed.  
"That's okay. I don't ask anything of you except honesty, Spock. I know that you can't give me open human affections. I don't care. I don't want it. Any of it. I want you." Spock is tense under his fingers, and his eyes flutter but don't open. "Spock." He says, soft. "Spock."  
Spock surges forward, catching Jim's mouth in a hurried kiss, his hands on Jim's back to anchor him close. Jim leaves his hands on his arms to steady himself. He's pressed two steps back, and feels his back come in contact with the table in the center of the room.  
Before he realizes it, Spock has hoisted him up to sit on it, and has pressed closer in the space between his legs.  
"Jim, Jim." He's chanting against Jim's lips, breathy sounds like sobs.  
Jim pulls him away with two hands on his face.  
"I love you." He tells him, voice low.  
Spock kisses him again, slow, his hands coming to Jim's thighs.  
He's is trying to show Jim what he can't say with words, and Jim reads his message loud and clear.  
When a shaky hand comes up to press against his face again, he hears the message more literally.  
'I love you,' Echoes in his head, but it's not his own voice or words.  
Jim feels an overwhelming rush of affection, and presses himself forward, chest to chest with Spock, a hand on his shoulder to keep him there. There's not enough air in his lungs, and his head is swimming, dizzy with sensation.  
"Jim." Spock pulls away, presses their foreheads together. Jim slides a hand to the back of his neck.  
"Spock." Jim returns.  
"Are you certain that this is what you desire? That I am?"  
"Never been more certain." Jim slips his fingers into Spock's hair, and smiles. "Don't doubt it. Don't doubt me."  
And so he doesn't.


End file.
